


Hartley Rathaway and the Secret of the Rogues

by therune



Category: DCU - Comicverse, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-30
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-06 08:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/416791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therune/pseuds/therune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rogues in Hogwarts. No, that's about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

Piper dragged himself to the Great Hall, slumped down at the Ravenclaw table and nearly drowned himself in a bowl of porridge.

“Morning, Piper,” Linda said and patted his shoulder sympathetically, “long night?”

“Why has no one invented a spell to see stars at day yet? Astronomy wouldn't have to be at night if they had.”

“Poor darling.”

“Yes, mock me now, but let's see how well you fare once you're my age.”

“Piper, you're one year ahead.”

“Trust me, the 6th year is when it's going to get rough.”

“Sure it is,” Linda said. She got up, took an apple and waved goodbye to her other friends, “next class is Divination, and I swear that the damn tower gets higher every week.” She left and Piper reluctantly sat upright.

God, he hated Tuesdays. Not only because they were awfully close to Mondays (and especially with Astronomy at night), but because they started with Potions. Not that Piper had anything against the subject per se – he was really good at it – but Snape on his own was bad enough, and when the class was coupled with Slytherin, it got worse and worse.

Snape's blatant favoritism bled through every sentence, and Piper's sense of justice wanted to rebel. He tried that once in his first year, and then never again. Luckily, Piper was good at Potions and Snape grew tired of trying to bully him very early on. That still left the Slytherins to deal with, and he hated Potions class for that.

Not only did they mock him because he ended up in Ravenclaw (a fact of which Piper was grateful for every day), while all his “friends”, the true purebloods had gone to Slytherin, as predicted and expected, they were arrogant, shallow, and often cruel in their ways. He loathed them. Piper remembered countless parties his parents, owners of the largest publishing empire in the whole magic world - had thrown or attended, where he was paraded around and introduced to the other sons and daughters of powerful empires and old pureblood families. At times like these, he wanted nothing more than a friend, but all he had gotten were future business partners. Back then, he never really fitted in. It became better as he began school. The hat called out name after name. The kids he knew all got sent to Slytherin, just as it was expected of him. But when Professor McGonagall came to “Rathaway, Hartley” and the hat was placed on his head (and promptly sank down to his chin) it wasted hardly a second before loudly exclaiming “Ravenclaw!”

Piper was relieved. His parents less so, but it only took them until Christmas to realize that this was still the better alternative to Gryffindor or, heaven forbid, Hufflepuff. Not that Hartley shared their opinion, but he loved Ravenclaw nonetheless. His fellow students were nice, intelligent and while still often arrogant, at least it was because of their intelligence or hard work, as opposed to his former “friends” who based their arrogance on being rich and pureblooded. And Professor Flitwick was finally an adult role model he could get behind: nice, smart and passionate about his subject and his students. It was he who got Piper interested in music; his first try at the choir had been a little disappointing, but the professor had encouraged him not to give up on something he loved. They found out that Piper was a genius at playing instruments. And when other students had Quidditch practice, went to Hogsmeade or did something to drive the janitor even more insane, Piper played music.

Like most Ravenclaws, Piper was intelligent, studied a lot and was absolutely hopeless at Herbology. Apparently this was sort of an ongoing joke between Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout. But, other than most of the Ravenclaws, Piper really hated Astronomy. He often wished that Charms was his best subject, but he excelled at potions without really trying. It just came to him very easily. That made his parents proud while it made him dislike it even more.

In class, he ignored the cutting remarks and barbs from the Slytherins and focused instead on not blowing up his cauldron. His partner Jared was quite content with their tradition of Piper doing the majority of work at potions, and Jared giving Piper tutoring sessions in Muggle Studies (which was another thing his parents absolutely couldn't comprehend. Why be interested in muggles at all, they asked. They even briefly considered making him choose between Hogsmeade or Muggle Studies until he pointed out that that would take away days where he could associate with his “friends”, and his parents relented pretty quickly after that.

Snape had just passed their table, told Jared to pretend to be actually involved in the project with a threat to take away house points and had actually said something nice about their potion. Well, it's wasn't nice, but it wasn't hurtful or insulting and Piper decided to take what he could get. Then someone frantically knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Snape said, already sounding annoyed.

The door opened and a boy came in, a Slytherin, judging from his appearance (although his tie was very askew and seemed singed on one side) and probably in 4th or 5th year. He seemed vaguely familiar, but Piper couldn't place him.

“Professor, I have been sent by Professor McGonagall, and-”

“What about?” Snape interrupted with a glare that said “come to the point already”. Piper had never met someone who had so many similar, but distinctive looks by which he could actually converse.

“There was an incident in her 7th year transfiguration class involving one of your students.”

Apparently Snape also had a look that translated into a face palm.

Someone back in the class whispered “Why would they send him then?” and was shushed.

“Let me guess. Mr Dillon and Mr Snart had a disagreement.”

“Which led to an explosion and Mr Snart crashing through the window in my Herbology project. And then Professor Mc Gonagall yelled, ahem, told me to go fetch you, sir.”

“I see,” the professor said and it sounded more like 'Fuck this all' than what he actually said, “Class, I'll be gone for a few minutes. Do not try to do anything stupid during my absence.”

Then he left, black cloak trailing behind him. And he forgot to take his messenger with him.

“Dude, what the hell happened?” a Slytherin – Hunter Zolomon – asked.

“Yeah, JJ, what has Roscoe done this time?” Mark Mardon, a Ravenclaw asked. Piper didn't know much about him other than he was an ace in astronomy and a little troublemaker.

“It was awesome,” JJ responded, “I only saw the end, but it was spectacular. Len was yelling 'Hands away from my sister', Roscoe called him a 'cave-dwelling troglodyte' – I'm not sure what that is, but anyway – but there was an ice spell that frosted all the windows, then there was an explosion and Len sailed in a great big arc right into my valerian bush. Cursing all the way. It was genius! You should have been there!”

JJ beamed, and two things happened. Piper finally realized who he was – James Jesse, star chaser of the Slytherin Quidditch team – and he fell in love.


	2. 2

Piper extinguished the fire underneath his cauldron, piled his books next to him as a kind of barrier, and just stared. Stared at James Jesse, who had blond hair – Piper refused to call it golden, although it was, even in the dungeon down here – blue eyes, tan skin and an incredible smile. It seemed to light up the room, it was so dazzling. If Piper didn't know better, he swore that he was affected by a love potion. But since those were silly lies, he had to face the truth. He was falling love, falling fast and falling faster. James was just so animated, talking with his whole body, hands and face. James was sitting on a table in the middle, telling the story again, illustrating some points, sharing some background information on the two fighting students and their motive – a girl, of course, it was always a girl – and the whole room was laughing. Not just the Slytherins he knew, most of the Ravenclaws as well.

No one noticed the professor returning.

Snape announced his presence with a cold “Mr Jesse” that ran shivers down Piper's spine.

And then James did something that made Piper love him even more, he talked back, with sass and wit. “Welcome back, professor, I have been keeping an eye on the class while you were gone. No pranks, no stupidity – more than usual – although I suspect that someone forgot to add his or her bat spleens, since one potion definitely smells smoky in here. Is our prefect okay?”

“Except from frostbite, a black eye and a massive punishment coming, I believe Mr Dillon is fine, as is Mr Snart.”

“Then my job here is done. I'll return to Herbology, and give Professor Sprout your regards and apology for keeping me here.” He gave Snape a big shit-eating grin and Snape, instead of threats or at least some kind of remark – and Piper could see that he was itching to make one – just said “Dismissed” and James left. Piper had the impression that he has just witnessed an episode of a much larger story.

“That was awesome” Jared whispered to him.

“No talking in class, Mr Morillo, minus 5 points for Ravenclaw.” Snape had just waited for someone to snap at. Dick.

Eventually, they all saw the light of day again and it was time for lunch. Linda sat down opposite him, watched him push his food around on his plate and then waved her hand in front of his face.

“Piper? Piper? Oh god...I know that look.”

“Hmmm?” Piper asked dreamily.

“Either you are under the influence of the Sedativus charm, or you're...you have a crush!”

“What?”

“Piper, dear, multisyllabic words, please.”

“Who?”

“You. have. a. crush. Piper.”

“Maybe.”

“You're admitting it. Okay. No, no, don't tell me. It's tuesday, so....so far, you've had Potions followed by History. Classmates? No, you have known them for years. Teacher? Certainly not of those subjects. Random encounter?”

“It was fate, Linda, fate.”

“Piper, you don't believe in fate. Didn't you give the whole commons room an hour long rant about a deterministic universe last month? I remember you confusing, and in one instance, frighten other students.”

“But this, this was fate.”

“Okay, let me cut you off right here. Who is it?”

“James Jesse.”

“James Jesse the chaser? James Jesse the star chaser? James Jesse the star chaser who is probably the youngest student ever to make the Quidditch team, and who is at least part-way responsible for Slytherin winning the cup every damn year since he is in this school? That James Jesse?”

“Oh yes.”

“Do you know he's your complete opposite, a Slytherin star sportsman?”

“Yep. But he's charming, funny and he pissed off Snape without getting a penalty.”

“How did that happen?”

So Piper told her what had happened. He may have exaggerated a bit on James's looks.

“I heard about that one. Is it true that Snart guy punched the Slytherin house prefect and that the prefect created a blast that threw him out of the window?”

“On James' Herbology project, apparently. I guess that is what happened, but nothing specific.”

“Oh, I know more!” Jared interrupted, holding a fork with pasta on it half-way to his mouth. “I heard it from Chyre.” Chyre was a 7th year Hufflepuff to whom Jared stuck like glue. “Snart is a Gryffindor, but his little sister is in Slytherin. And she's the girlfriend of – you guessed it – Dillon, the Slytherin prefect. Snart and Dillon have always hated each other since day one, something happened in the train apparently, but that just made it worse. Then, in Transfiguration, someone brought up the little Snart, and no one is sure who threw the first punch, but Snart punched Dillon in the eye, kicked him, Dillon punched back, grabbed his wand and it was a disaster from there on. Ice spells – and people swear that they were too advanced for a student – hexes, then a smokescreen spell, so people aren't too sure anymore what happened, but Dillon caused an explosion, Snart was flung out of a window straight into the Herbology gardens. I don't know what happened to them afterwards. I've heard that they were in the hospital wing, that they were expelled, and I even heard that McGonagall hauled both to Dumbledore's office while Snape told them what he'd do to them if the staff were permitted to use violence or poisoning students. But that's just a rumour. I also heard that Snape turned them both into mice and is planning to feed them to his pet snake. As far as I know, the man doesn't even own a pet whatever.”

“Rumour, Jared, rumours. You have to get to the bottom of things, not rely on hearsay.”

“I'm not too interested in it, it's just a cool story.”

“I'll just ask Wally, he'll know more, at least about the background.”

“Yes, go to your Gryffindor boyfriend.”

“You're just jealous.”

“I'm not! Piper, tell Linda I'm not!”

“Some day, Jared, you will find a beautiful woman, you'll get married, and then she will boss you around for the rest of your life and you will love every second of it.”

“Hey!”

Linda ignored Jared. “Hey, Mark!”

Mark turned around from his conversation with Sam Scudder and replied with “What?”

“Aren't you friends with Snart? Did he really cast a Nix Nives?”

“Yep. If it's ice, Len can cast it. And then hurl it against people who piss him off.”

“Do you know what happened afterwards?”

“Hospital wing, mostly. A little bird told me that punishment is going to be withheld until they are completely unfrozen and have no more broken ribs.”

“Thanks, Mark.”

“You're welcome, darling.”

“In your dreams, Mardon.”

“Every night, Park.”

Linda faced Piper again. “Can you believe this guy?”

“He's a teenage boy. And gross.”

“Fair enough.

The story held the interest of most of the table and the rest of lunch was spent discussing, gossiping and sometimes eating, when the students remembered. Piper watched the teachers' table, but neither Professor McGonagall nor Professor Snape showed.


	3. 3

Piper had charms next and Professor Flitwick began his class with “Hello, and no, I don't know what happened this morning and I will not share any information on that subject.”. Dinner gossip told Piper that every other teacher had said the same, albeit in some cases with other words. In Snape's case, the words were “Don't.”

Piper should have done his homework, but he spent the evening talking with Tina McGee about the last Quidditch matches he had attended but never really paid attention to, except cheer when Ravenclaw scored a point and at one memorable instance, yell at the referee. He didn't specifically mention James Jesse, but naturally the subject turned to him eventually. Talking about Quidditch without talking about him was like talking about baking without ever mentioning flour. Or sugar. According to Tina, James was fast, creative and seemed to be born to fly. “Looking at him fly is like poetry in motion. It's like a bird spreading his wings, like a phoenix.” As much as Piper liked to listen to facts (or dreams) about James, he would have liked to know more about the game. He couldn't think of a better conversation opener, and he desperately wanted to talk to James. Well, someday. Somehow.

“Can't you tell me more about the game and the rules?”

“Why the sudden interest in Quidditch? Trying to chat up a girl you like? Don't you usually rely on those horrible musical puns of yours?”

“They are not horrible, they are extremely witty!”

“Sure they are. But alright, let's see...”

In the end, she did explain to him the general rules and famous games, and told him about a few famous players and moves. After a while she did go back to teasing him, he revealed that he was trying to chat up a boy, at which point she resumed teasing and started guessing.

“It's not Mark, isn't it?”

“Where do you get those ideas? Hell no!”

“Jared?”

“Tina, please.”

“Fine, keep your secret. For now.”

Night came, and while Piper lay awake, testing out various ways how a possible conversation might go, something stirred in the hospital wing. Len Snart turned his head onto his side and looked towards the window where he had heard a noise. Any other person might have chalked it up to a branch hitting the window, but Len knew better. “Just be quiet,” he hissed.

The face that had appeared at his window grinned in response. “Alohomora,” it said and the window opened. In flew not one, but two people on a broomstick; both young and blonde.

“Lisa,” Len breathed. His sister went over and gave him a hug that made him wince, but he kept quiet and enjoyed the moment. “You know that you're forbidden to run around at night.”

“Just you try and stop me,” she replied and grinned, but her eyes looked sad.

“What's the matter?” Len asked concerned.

“You, you stupid fuckhead. What were you thinking? You could get expelled! And you could have really hurt Roscoe.”

“Oh please, he started it. Aaaaand besides,” he said and interrupted her response, “he is better off than me. I was the one who got thrown into a stupid hedge.”

“Which was my Herbology project, you numbskull. Just be glad I moved it to cushion your fall.”

“Nobody asked for your input, JJ” Lisa replied coldly.

JJ pouted and went over to the other occupied bed. “Surprise, Roscoe.”

“Go away.”

“Hey, I specifically came here to cheer you up. Well, actually Lisa threatened me until I flew us here. She'll be over after she gives Len a piece of her mind. Then, she'll give one to you. Seriously man, what is it between you two? I get that you despise each other, but it usually goes off without explosions. Or shattered windows. Or two professors going at each other's throats.”

“He started it,” Roscoe stated.

JJ sighed. “It's always the other one. I just-” he broke off, then held a finger to his lips. He had heard something. It sounded like muffled talking, like someone in an enclosed space, bumping into things, it sounded like “Sam, is that you?”

“Shit. This thing isn't sound proof yet?”

“Apparently not. Come on out.”

The third window from the right glowed faintly, then a boy stepped out. “I thought I fixed this. Man, I spent hours working on that. I rented a dozen books and I thought I finally got it.”

“Sam, you have created a mirror portal, a way to travel that can rival the floopowder fireplaces. That's genius, and you complain because you can't keep your mouth shut while you're in it.”

“Hey, I was silent. The peanut gallery couldn't shut up.”

“The peanut...Mick, Digger, Mark, is that you?”

“If I said 'no', would you believe me?”

“Probably not.”

“Then move over already, this thing isn't too roomy.”

The window glowed again, and three more boys stepped out.

“Still better than walking all the way. Last time we almost got caught by the bloody baron, and that dude is scary. Is it true he killed unicorns and tried to live forever?”

“That's a rumour,” Roscoe said, “a completely exaggerated rumour.”

“Still the prefect, even in here,” Mick said, “hey, they refurnished. Last time I was here, they still had those ugly, uncomfortable chairs, those now” he sat down, “feel awesome!”

“Mick, that was two weeks ago,” Mark said, “I can't believe how many times you've already been in there. I was actually with you in that class when Flitwick taught us extinguishing spells. I know you can put out fires, yet you regularly burn things and wind up in here for a check-up.”

“Fire is beautiful. I don't want to put it out.”

“Still on the road to become a future dragon trainer?”

“Oh yes.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Lisa yelled.

“Sorry,” the boys mumbled.

“I guess 'project: fuck with prefect Allen' is on hold for now.” Digger added sadly.

“Guys, focus. They may get expelled!” Sam hissed.

“Yeah, but what can we do?” Mick asked.

The following silence was a bit embarrassing for a all.

“Step up as character witnesses?”

“Yeah, because we are the best people to tell someone that our friends are not batshit insane bastards. They'd never believe us.”

“I think Digger standing up for anyone is the worst kind of thing a character witness could do, short from punching the judge.”

“Isn't that how Mr Harkness lost his factory?”

“Yep. Digger. So Digger, um....don't.”

“We could always have Lisa cry and cling dramatically to Len and Roscoe.”

“Better than plan B.”

“Plan B as in having Mick blowing shit up as a distraction?”

“That plan.”

The rest of the time was spent talking, trying to make jokes and when they pushed Len's and Roscoe's beds pushed together, they played Wizard Snap.


	4. 4

A week had gone by since the famous Transfiguration Explosion and both students had returned to class. The mood was always tense between Gryffindor and Slytherin, but it had reached a new all-time high since then. Both guys weren't exactly the popular kind, but internal rivalries are quickly forgotten once an external opponent appears. Even Gryffindor prefect Barry Allen seemed to support Len, and that was saying something. None of the students had revealed what the consequences of their actions had been – except for a massive loss of points for both houses - only that they escaped expulsion and that the result hadn't exactly been pleasant. That uncertainty led to suspicion and that only worsened the tension. And then, the first Quidditch match of the year was announced and of course it was Gryffindor against Slytherin. Those two houses had always been competitive, even more so in sports. Piper had heard that both McGonagall and Snape used to play, and the house rivalry made frightfully sense. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff never seemed to make such a big deal out of the game, but the Quidditch fever had infected them as well lately. 

The day of the match had come. The Gryffindor table was a writhing mess of red and gold; scarves, banners and to Piper's intense dislike – vuvuzelas. He blamed Linda's boyfriend Wally for that. And while it was true that he blamed Wally for a lot of things and most of them weren't his fault, these absolutely were. His parents were muggles and football fanatics, and Wally had an unreasonable amount of enthusiasm for the game as well. And apparently there had been some sort of cup, or championship or tournament last year, and that had introduced vuvuzelas to the fans. And Wally had introduced it to everyone in Hogwarts who cared. The vuvuzelas were red with golden stripes and made an ungodly noise, so of course Gryffindors loved them. Wally was a nice – if slightly hyperactive kid – and Piper liked him well enough, but sometimes he just wanted to strangle him. He called those impulses his inner Slytherin and did his best to repress them. It didn't really help that Wally was somehow related to the Gryffindor prefect and was able to get away with more than the average student. 

Piper's thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the Slytherin team. The door to the Great Hall opened and the Quidditch players walked in, clad in their team jerseys, brooms already in hand. Even from afar, James was radiant as ever. Piper still hadn't had a chance to talk to him in person yet. That's what he told himself, but his evil little demon of teenage insecurities had risen its head and planted lots of 'what ifs' and 'whys' in Piper's mind. So, Piper had done nothing except to hint heavily to Linda that she should test the waters for him since they had Care of Magical Creatures together. So far, she had told him that James was nice, if a bit mischievous, had a gorgeous smile and possessed neither fear nor shame. Either that, or he just shared Hagrid's attitude towards incredibly dangerous and savage beasts; he petted them and called them adorable. While Piper certainly wasn't bad at Care of Magical Creatures, he never really got the appeal of confronting things like doxies or occamies up close. And another opportunity for a conversation gone.

Someone from the Gryffindor table yelled something, a Slytherin yelled something back, and soon the Great Hall was a big angry bee hive. At least it seemed that way to Piper. But luckily Professor Dumbledore stepped in: he cleared his throat and looked vaguely disappointed. The students quieted down. Piper wondered if the professor cared about Quidditch himself and supported a team, but that quickly led to thoughts about Dumbledore playing Quidditch himself and the resulting mental images were really ridiculous.  
“Hi guys,” Jared whispered and slid into a seat next to Linda, “through some connections of mine,” he stressed 'connections' and probably wanted to come of as all mysterious and important, when Piper and Linda both knew that 'connections' usually meant Chyre, “I have gained access to a secret betting ring. I already placed my bet: Slytherin for the win. Don't get me wrong, Gryffindor plays well, but Slytherin has that Jesse kid. Any of you two interested in earning some cash? I could put in a good word for you.”  
“No thanks,” Linda replied, “I don't gamble. And Wally would look so disappointed when he'd find out that I was betting against his house.”  
“So you're for Slytherin, too?”  
“I'm not for Slytherin, I just think that they will win.”  
“Suit yourself, Park. Hey, McGee, can you spare a second?” and with that Jared went off to Tina who had been in a heated discussion with her absolutely not-boyfriend Jerry.  
“Any luck on the James-front yet?” Linda turned to Piper and asked.  
“He looks really good in that jersey?”  
“So, no.”  
“No, not really. Piper shook his head and poked at his cereal. “How is this so hard? How did you and Wally do it?”  
“He actually ran me over in second year. And I may or may not have a thing for freckles.”  
“Do you think that-”  
“Nope, don't try this. Use your brain.” Piper sighed. Linda patted his hand. “Brave heart, Piper.”

They went down to the Quidditch pitch, past arguing students, past fans who had painted their faces to match team colors, and past Professors Snape and McGonagall who seemed to be in some sort of discussion, but neither of them said a single word. Piper was once more impressed by Snape's own language that was giving looks, and by McGonagall's language which seemed to be smirks and a general air of superiority. Piper reached the seats first and told Linda to just go already. She shot him a semi-apologetic look until she bounded off to join Wally and his dreadful vuvuzela. None of the Ravenclaws had obtained any, and Piper was grateful for small mercies. His direct seat neighbor was Richard, a somewhat weird, pale, skinny kid who skulked around in the shadows a lot.  
His attempt at a conversation was unsuccessful so he resigned himself to be jostled by exuberant fans, be exposed to a lot of noise and to admire James from the ground.  
As it turned out, Tina was not exaggerating when she talked about his abilities. It was like music to Piper, like something natural and eternally beautiful. With the other players, it looked just like it was: a witch or wizard on a broomstick. With James, it was like watching a bird soar in the sky: he seemed to belong there. And for the first time, Piper actually paid attention to the game. James was really good at it – which was no surprise. There seemed to be a lot more to it than Piper realized. He even recognized a few of the moves that Tina told him about. Piper cheered when goals were scored, he ooooh'd and aaaaaah'd and yelled “Foul” when a bludger nearly hit James in the face. It really wasn't, but how dare anyone to even try and attack James? Luckily he was in good company during the foul part, almost every girl was yelling that, too.  
The match grew fierce; Slytherin started with the fouls, but Gryffindor almost immediately followed suit. Bats 'accidentally' landed in faces, players 'accidentally' crashed into the keeper and James evaded a double assault from the enemy beaters by rolling off his broom and clinging to it with just his hands and feet. And Piper wasn't sure – he was pretty far away - but he could swear that James was smiling during that. He was simply magnificent. Slytherin scored many points, but nobody had caught the snitch yet, so Gryffindor still could win. James and the other two chasers were doing well, but their seeker still hadn't glimpsed the snitch. The match was going on for over an hour now, and the players seemed to tire. Then something happened. James spotted something and signaled their beaters who dived down to the right side of the field, plunging from an incredible height. They were clearing a path for their seeker! This didn't go unnoticed by the Gryffindor team and their seeker gave chase. Piper couldn't hear anything, but the players seemed to be shouting, edging on their seeker. James followed his beaters down, like a falcon hunting for prey, falling faster and faster. He intercepted the enemy seeker, crossed her path just a second to disorient her, then flew a loop and was facing her. He charged immediately, flew on a direct collision course. Piper had long before stood up from his seat, but now he was leaning forward, he had to see more. James was a blur of green rushing towards the Gryffindor seeker, crowing with joy. Then, Piper heard a sharp whistle and realized that this had been the referee. What? The game was over? James and his team members flew up in the sky, ascended from their course. According to the confused cries of the audience, no one was sure what had happened. “150 points to Slytherin. Slytherin has got the snitch, the match is over!” the announcer said. Huh? That was ...unexpected.  
“What? Hey, what?” people around Piper asked.  
“There!” Tina yelled. Piper looked and saw the Slytherin seeker thrusting up his hand, holding up the little golden snitch.  
It had been a diversion! While everyone had looked at James and his tries to stop the other seeker, no one had noticed the Slytherin seeker flying in the opposite direction. That was smart. Really good, and Piper was suitably impressed. The players descended, and while the Gryffindor players were mostly angry and kicked at the quaffle which had fallen down, the Slytherin team hoisted their seeker up on their shoulders and carried him off the field.  
It seemed like the list of James' admirable qualities just grew: Piper added 'smart' to the list and grinned.


	5. 5

It was now December and the next trip to Hogsmeade was just around the corner. Piper was outside with a couple of friends and was, despite of what the others said, doing more than just bitching about the cold. He was admiring the scenery, but Jesse Chambers and Rick Tyler were making out, Linda was going over plans for her upcoming internship at the Daily Prophet and Wally was listing all the candies he'd buy once they were at the Honeydukes shop. Piper himself was thinking about the choir practice tonight. Tina and Jerry were arguing about ...something, he wasn't really listening. “And then, chocolate frogs. I still haven't found Dumbledore yet, and that is ridiculous; he is like the most popular card! I have even got not one, but two Agrippas and everyone knows how rare these are. Oh, and fizzing whizzbees. I got Barry a box of those and you should have seen his face when he tried his first one. I wish I had had a camera. But then, he probably would keep running out of frame. He always does that, always late. I got my mum a portrait of my family for mother's day, I had it made on our last trip to Diagon Alley. She was just astonished when the figures moved and smiled. And guess what – she nagged painted me about the haircut, just like she nagged me. It's awesome.”  
Piper laughed. It was nice to hear about happy families and happy holidays: his last mother's day present was a singing lily which got the response of “It's very nice. Thank you, Hartley.” Afterwards, he heard his dad mutter “Herbology, really? Can't he do something with proper subjects?” which he had pretended not to have heard. “

Hogwarts really was beautiful at this time. The snow covered the grass and slight hills like a soft blanket, and the lake was completely frozen over. It made Piper want to try his hand at ice-skating, but he knew he'd be awful at it and preferred to do it without an audience of several dozens students. They were walking back towards the castle when they passed a small cluster of snowmen and one which was obviously a snowwoman. Freshly fallen snow had covered their features, but it seemed to Piper as if they were not generic snowmen, but they represented people. He brushed his gloved hand over one of the snowmen's heads and then laughed. Instead of the usual smile, this snowman wore a grumpy frown made out of little branches. Then it shuddered and groaned “Ooooh, I'm Len and I hate everyooooooooone”. The others started laughing, too.  
“That's genius!” Linda said and poked another of the snowmen. But it just garbled something; the voice recording spell seemed to have waned off. But someone was clearly having fun with these.  
After trying out the other snowmen which gave off just one sentence each, and most of them not really comprehensible, they went back inside to warm up. After hot chocolate in the Great Hall, they went their separate ways, to the common rooms, to the winter garden and in Linda's case to the prefect bathroom which her friend had told her about. It was an open secret for most Ravenclaws. Piper had been there once and it was glorious. Sadly, it was in high demand. 

Piper went back to the bedroom and fetched his flute and sheet music. Professor Flitwick was already in holiday mood and gave them all Christmas music to perform. While he liked most of the carols, he would have liked to play something else for a change. It was almost time for dinner and he decided to just take his instrument with him already.  
Lunch was as usual – plenty of food, plenty of students and plenty of gossip. He spent most of it studying his sheet music, adding notes for him here and there. 

The Great Hall emptied, until there were only a couple of students left, most of them from the choir who had decided to wait there until practice. Piper assembled his flute and went through the motions, stopping here and there to modify the sheet music. Ralph Dibny sat down next to him and slung one of his long arms around his shoulders. “The Jolly Reindeer?” he read from the sheet music, “Flitwick's really getting into the mood.”  
“Tell me about it,” Piper responded. He liked Ralph well enough, and he was extremely smart; Piper often wondered why he hadn't ended up in Ravenclaw, like him or Sue Dearbon who was the sole reason for Ralph hanging around here. They had been dating since Ralph crashed the Spring Ball which had subsequently been canceled. Pity, it was the year before Piper entered Hogwarts. And while Piper absolutely hated the balls he was made to attend at home, he was willing to bet that a Hogwarts ball would have been fun. Sue was an alto singer and very good at it. Ralph was tone-deaf.  
“New flute, huh? Looks shiny.”  
“Well, “Piper responded, “I wanted to be a clarinettist but I couldn't reed music.”  
And while Ralph looked puzzled for a moment, Piper heard laughter coming from the table behind him. He turned around and was ready to snap at the person who dared to make fun of his pun, until he saw who was laughing. At the table behind him, James was sitting with two friends; a blonde girl and, oh god, that was the Slytherin prefect, Dillon. James was laughing – god, it was beautiful – and the other two seemed embarrassed.  
“Don't mind him,” Roscoe said and elbowed James in the side. “You have no concept of good humor, now leave the poor musicians alone.”  
“But it's funny! Come on, tell another one!” James said and looked to Piper.  
“I tried to play the bagpipes, but the sound coming out was off kilter.”  
“Bwahaha,” was James' response, the girl rolled her eyes. Ralph spotted Sue and left his seat.  
Piper smiled. “Those who hate classical music have my symphony.”  
“Don't mind him, he loves horrible puns,” the girl said, pointed to James, and stood up. “We're leaving,” she said to Dillon and they went out of the hall, arm in arm. Piper could just make out Dillon say “But the last one was witty, I liked it” before the door closed behind them.  
James slid out of his seat as well and sat down on Piper's side.  
Piper prayed that he seemed cool, at least this once in his life. This was a dream come true.  
“I didn't know you liked music,” Piper said and instantly regretted it. How should he know what James liked, that was stalker-behavior.  
“Oh, you know, listening to choral music is an a-choir-ed taste.” James replied and grinned.  
And if Piper hadn't been absolutely been in love then, he sure was now. 

After trading back and forth a few more (more or less) atrocious puns, James stole Piper's pumpkin juice, drank and then stretched out his hand. “I'm James, by the way.”  
“I know, I mean, from Quidditch. I'm Piper.” He shook James' hand.  
Piper was just about to say something else when he heard someone clearing his throat. Very dramatically and three times. Professor Flitwick looked at him and gestured to the already assembled choir with his wand. When did that happen?  
“I'll better go, unless I get you into treble,” James said and winked.  
“No, I mean yes, I mean... “  
James laughed and it was like music. “It's okay. I'll see you around.” He turned around and waved a quick goodbye.  
Piper stumbled to the choir, then returned to fetch his sheet music, then again to fetch his flute.  
He went through choir practice in a sort of haze, like he was floating on a cloud of bliss. Apparently he turned into a bad poet when in love. 

After one hour, Piper went back to his bedroom, sunk down on the bed and sighed.  
“That bad?” Jared asked.  
“That bad what?”  
“Give me some credit, I'm a Ravenclaw for a reason. You have a crush!”  
“Yes, yes, I do.”  
“And you're admitting it, so it's reeeally that bad. Anyone I know?”  
“Maybe.”  
“Fine, be cryptic all you like. Are you still in for Hogsmeade this weekend?”  
“Yes, yes, I am.”


	6. 6

Len wasn't a family man. He was a lone wolf, who had a sister. He was a Lisa-man, his only sibling and only family that ever mattered. He still wasn't sure how he wound up with several little brothers. And Hogsmeade was like going on a road trip, and he hated those.  
But here he was, surrounded by a group of little idiots. He made sure that Mick only provided light, that he didn't set things on fire by accident, he made sure that Digger returned when he wandered off and that Mark didn't walk into things when he was too busy looking at the sky. Finally, they arrived at the village, and like every successful manager, Len got sub-contractors to handle troubles. Sadly, his sub-contractors were also troubles, albeit smaller ones.  
“Sam, you and Mark go to the post office and return in one piece. Mick, take JJ and Digger to Honeydukes and make sure at least one of them comes out without a sugar crush. We'll meet back at  
the Three Broomsticks for plan: Suck it, Allen.”  
At least Sam gave him a mock salute before rushing off. Lisa and Roscoe went off on a date which he accepted with gritted teeth. At least he knew that an afternoon of sitting in Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop would just be as excruciating for Roscoe as it was for him to know that Lisa had taken that pompous jerk out on a date.  
He himself went to Ollivander's to have the clerk take a look at his wand which had sustained some damage from his little disagreement with Roscoe. After all, things needed to be perfect for Suck it, Allen. The recent not quite friendliness between him and Allen was annoying, to say the least.  
He went over the plan in his head again and smiled. 

Piper let himself be dragged along by Jared who had told him that he was on an important mission. Piper however knew that the important mission was to smuggle a box of sugar quills that Wally bought from the Honeydukes back to Hogwarts without being discovered, since it was supposed to be a Christmas surprise for Linda. He himself bought a few things there, mostly Whizochoc and chocolate skeletons. At least these were just made from chocolate, in contrast to sugar butterfly wings and other sweets which did contain certain...organic elements. He never got why wizard candies were often animal themed and frequently contained actual animal parts, he thought it disgusting.  
Piper was ready to leave when he spotted someone coming in: James and two friends he had never seen before. He didn't have the chance to inspect them more closely because they seemed to be small whirlwinds who immediately dispersed once inside the shop. He did see a blonde head pop up here and there which had to belong to James, but that was it. Until someone collided with him and nearly sent him flying into a shelf of chocolate frogs.  
“Oh, hey, it's you. Hello! Sorry about running into you, but have you seen the size of these nougat chunks? Bigger than my head!”  
“Hi,” Piper said, out of his depth now that he couldn't rely on puns.  
“What did you get? Oh, whizochoc, that's great. Hey, would you mind holding these for me? I need help with them until the register.”  
James grinned and of course Piper helped him.  
“This is Mick and that's Digger,” James introduced his friends who were holding a box each., filled with in one case pepper imps and in the other with fizzing whizzbees.  
“Hi, I'm-”  
“Piper, yes, we know, yadda yadda yadda,” Digger said and cut in front of line before him.  
“What was that about?” Piper asked James.  
“He's a rude bastard, you just have to get used to it.” James said and shrugged.  
“No, I meant-” Piper began, but was once again interrupted, this time by a horde of overeager third year students on their first visit to Hogsmeade ever, almost crashing into the register.  
James' purchase was rang up, he paid and made Piper carry one of his bags with which Piper was strangely okay.  
“Thanks,” James said and smiled, “I have a meeting in two hours, but you could keep me company until then.”  
And who was Piper to say no to that?  
They passed the hairdresser's at which point James expressed a desire to dye his hair – either pink or blue. Piper laughed and James pouted. “I'd look awesome with dyed hair.”  
“I'm sure you would, no, really.”  
James then steered him over to Spintwitches to look at Quidditch equipment.  
“Do you have a broom?” James asked while nearly drooling over a Firebolt II in the display window.  
“My parents bought me a Nimbus 2001 but I'm afraid I'm not very good at flying.”  
“You can't be worse than the Gryffindor seeker at the last match. Fell right into my trap...and he would have lost at Quidditch chicken.”  
“Quidditch chicken?”  
“It's when two players rush towards each other at full speed. Whoever quits first is the chicken.”  
“You always win, huh?”  
“Of course. Apparently I'm the only one who realized that brooms cannot go only right or left, back or forward, they can also go up and down. I never lose.”  
“No, you don't. Slytherin has won 7 games out of 7 since you joined.”  
“I didn't peg you for a Quidditch fan.”  
“Well, I am.” 'Mostly of you' he prudently didn't add. “Wasn't that the Wronski Feint?”  
James arched his eyebrow. “Color me impressed. And the Wronski Feint is actually when it's a seeker misleading a seeker, not a chaser, but then I don't think that what I did has a name.”  
“The Jesse Feint? Jesse Mislead?”  
“The Jesse Trick,” James said, moving his hand to imply a sign with the name of the move on it. 

They walked through the village and passed the only shop in Hogsmeade that Piper loved from the bottom of his heart. Dominic Maestro's Music Shop was legendary and the instruments, gadgets and sheet music were to die for. While he liked Dominic Maestro, Piper wasn't too fond of his son who sometimes worked in the shop when he wasn't too busy pursuing a career in singing and called himself “The Music Meister”. Not that his music wasn't good, but he just grated on Piper's nerves. But he was still better than the instrument manufacturer Bowin. Bowin, while a genius at making instruments, was a grouchy, grumpy grinch, and that on his good days.  
“Want to go inside?” James asked and indicated the shop. While Piper wanted to go, he didn't want to bore James; surely there were more interesting things in Hogsmeade to him than this shop.  
“Well,-”  
“If you want to go inside, we'll go inside.” No sooner than he had finished this sentence, he had already dragged Piper inside.  
There was just something about the smell of instruments that Piper loved, something that was wooden but not wooden, with a hint of metal and more. His eyes were immediately drawn to the flute stands. He didn't even notice James wandering off to the gimmick section of the shop, with singing cards, teddy bears that played songs and little musical boxes. 

There it was, a dream in physical form. Shining silver, open hole keys, offset g keys – what more could any musician wish for? Piper didn't realize it, but he had a very similar look on his face to the one James had when he was admiring the Firebolt II. No price tag was attached, but Piper knew what that usually meant – if you had to ask for the price, you couldn't afford it anyway. At least there was one upside to having rich parents who neglected their son and liked to throw money at problems to solve them: he could have this flute as a Christmas present if he asked for it. And which he would do. An original Bowin – his Bowin.

He was distracted by a noise – apparently James had set off every musical box at once.  
Piper grinned.  
They left the store with a musical box each and the owner glaring at James.  
“Thanks, Piper, it was a great afternoon, even if you don't think that I'd look great with pink hair.”  
“You're welcome.”  
Piper wanted to say more, to tell James how wonderful this afternoon was, but before he could get out a word more, James had said that he had to go to his meeting, thanks, and waved goodbye. Piper hadn't even noticed that James had taken back his bag of candy. 

Piper felt like he was floating on his way back to the castle.  
Only when he flopped down on a chair in the common room did he realize that there was something in his pocket, a musical box (Mozart, of course), a chocolate frog he didn't remember buying and a little piece of parchment that said “There is nothing better than a good friend. Except a good friend with chocolate.”


	7. Chapter 7

The door opened and Roscoe entered the Three Broomsticks. To those who did not know him very well, he seemed every bit the calm prefect. To those who did, he looked utterly miserable, having just spent 3 hours sitting on a white chair with pink pillows, drinking sickeningly sweet tea out of far too delicate porcelain cups and being cooed at by Madam Puddifoot. Roscoe liked being recognized, being praised and receiving attention. He did not like being called “a fine young gentleman with his little girlfriend, oh, I could pinch these cute cheeks!” At least it had made Lisa happy, although he suspected that her primary joy had stemmed from showing him off to the other girls in the tea shop than from actually being in said teashop. When he had accompanied her to the hairdresser afterwards, she had worn that little accomplished smile that meant that she was incredibly pleased. It made her look eerily like Len, this “being incredibly pleased” expression was something that they shared, although on Len it looked more like a shit-eating grin. Speaking of the devil, there he was, right in front of him.   
“Stop it!” Roscoe demanded and glared at Len and their group of friends. Most of them looked sympathetic, except for JJ who grinned at him. But since this seemed to be his default expression, Roscoe didn't mind it too much.   
“Here's your regular order,” Sam said and pushed a pint over to him. That lifted his mood.  
Mark took a sip from his Elderflower wine, “When shall we all meet again? In thunder, lightning or in rain?” he announced and then giggled.  
“Shakespeare? I think he's had enough.” Roscoe looked at them accusingly. Could it really be that hard to not get drunk before planning a project?  
“Actually, that's his first. And the glass is still half full,” JJ pointed out and resumed placing spells on his small army of cocktail umbrellas that he had gotten from Madam Rosmerta. They floated about an inch over the table and he seemed extremely proud out of himself. The other pubs wouldn't serve alcohol to students – or even let them inside – but they had connections. Well, they had Digger who had grown onto Madam Rosmerta like a fungus. Mainly because Digger always smuggled a few bottles of some exotic beverages out of Australia during his summer holidays.  
“Did we get everything?” Roscoe asked after his first refreshing sip of pomegranate juice. Except for JJ, Mark and him, everyone had gotten a pint of butterbeer which were almost mostly empty. JJ had opted for exploding lemonade topped off with cherry sirup. It was sugary, sparkled and was likely to injure anyone who drank it, so of course JJ loved it. Mick fished a small pouch out of a box with the Honeydukes label. “Pure fireimp essence,” he said and held up the pouch which was ever so slightly glowing red.   
“Allen's usual parchment order and preferred envelope brand, weaseled out of the clerk at the post office,” Mark said, slid over a big, thick envelope and giggled again.  
“I assume the clerk is female,” Roscoe guessed. Mark blushed, emptied his glass and sighed. Definitely female.  
Sam pulled a small green envelope from his pocket. “Al says hi and sent us the instructions for the potion.”  
Digger raised his pint. “To Al!”  
“To Al,” they echoed and clinked their glasses together.  
“The finest of his generation,” Roscoe began somberly, “barely escaped the clutches of school, a brilliant young mind, a true genius at potions, and what does the idiot do? Trains to be a teacher.”  
“Alas, poor Al, I knew him.”  
Len cuffed Mark on the back of the head. “No more Shakespeare.” He placed an inkwell on the table. “I stopped at Zonko's for the disappearing ink. I believe this is it, gentleman, we have only one week until the holidays, and the potions needs three days to brew. Let's get prefect Allen an early Christmas present.”  
“What did he actually do this time? Not that we usually need a better reason than he's an arse, because he is, but we normally need a special reason for something this elaborate,” Digger asked, looked into his empty pint and waved over at Madam Rosmerta for a refill.  
“He was a dick about stuff,” Len replied, and although he didn't say more, he had said everything. If the issue was enough to piss off Len so that he would go to such lengths to get revenge, it had to be a family thing. Which meant that it concerned either his blood family, meaning Lisa or their scumbag of a father, or it concerned them. And it had been bad. Furthermore, he wouldn't really talk about it, so it was very bad. So that was enough for them.   
It was going to be their last big prank before the holidays and they wanted to make it count.


	8. Chapter 8

After his last Herbology class, Piper somehow got involved into a snowball fight of epic proportions. He couldn't explain how, exactly. What he had planned was to go to the Great Hall for lunch. What he did do was hide behind an incredibly impressive snow wall and throw snowballs at blurs. James had crossed his way, smiled and before he knew what had happened, Piper had ended up on Team “Chocolate” fighting the Team “Strawberry” - apparently a debate about Neapolitan style ice cream had escalated to the point of violence and warfare. Half an hour into the fight he still wasn't sure if this was about the best or the worst kind of ice cream. Also, there had been a Team “Vanilla”, but it consisted only of that Australian guy and he had opted very quickly to join their team. Snowballs weren't the only things hurled – apparently insults and at one point spells were deemed acceptable. Piper got hit in the head, the chest and even in the back – damn cowards.  
They were eventually defeated by the other team storming their snow fort – they were pelted by a flood of snow balls and his face was rubbed into a puddle of dirty, icy water. By the looks of it, his team mates weren't in a better position. Poor Mark got someone stick snow up his jacket, and god, what was the name of the Australian guy, had some stuffed down his pants. James just looked like he got turned into a snowman. Piper looked up to see Len Snart throw a snowball up like it was a baseball and grin in a way that was both very happy and still threatening.  
“Now will you agree that Strawberry is the flavor to be left for last?”  
“Hell no, you eat it first so it's out of the way, and so you can enjoy chocolate,” Mark said while trying to get the snow from under his jacket before it melted.  
“Wait, that's what this is about?” Sam asked, “I thought this was about savoring chocolate for the end because it's the best?”  
Piper put 2 and 2 together.  
“You had this, “he gestured at the snow forts, an ice sculpture in the middle and the rest of their battlefield, “war because you agree that you like chocolate best?”  
He could see the gears inside the brains of the ...soldiers, friends, crazy guys.... turning.  
“Ummm....yes?” Mick said in a way that a student gives an answer of which he isn't sure if it's right but still hopes it is.  
“You're idiots!” Piper yelled, “I'm wet, cold and I'm pretty sure that you, “he pointed accusingly at Roscoe, “hexed my hair red!”  
Like the snowflake that starts the blizzard, it lead the way to a fight, this time with less ice and more punches. Various variations of “it's your fault” were hurled around, along with kicks and insults.  
Eventually, Piper decided to be smart and slowly inched away from the fight until he could watch it from afar. Sighing, he plunked down on a small stone wall and pulled off his completely soaked through cap.  
“Hey there!”  
And he almost fell down again. A familiar blond head had poked up from behind the wall and smiled at him.  
“James! You... you startled me. How did you get here?”  
“I've been hiding here for five minutes, wondering when you'd come around.”  
They sat in silence, watching the fight turn into lazy punches which turned into staring because the participants were too exhausted for anything more.  
“Did we really just have this,” he said in lack for a more appropriate word, “because of ice cream?”  
“Len takes ice cream very seriously.”  
“Huh.”  
For a few minutes Piper pretended he wasn't sneaking glances of James out of the corner of his eyes, watch him swing his legs back and forth and find him utterly handsome.  
“I think it's over,” James announced and hopped off the wall. Piper followed him less gracefully.  
They joined the group who trotted back towards the castle. When they reached the stairs and Piper was about to say goodbye (or hopefully a version that sounded less final) James had already joined him and the stairs had just moved.  
“I thought the Slytherin common room was in the dungeon.”  
“And I think you just answered the follow-up question of why I wouldn't want to go down there right now.”  
“Is it as uninviting as they say?” God, he hoped that didn't come off as rude.  
“You have to be more specific, I have heard things about the room that you wouldn't believe.”  
They walked up and with each passing step, Piper's heart bounced. Or flew. The direct vicinity of James still made him a horrible poet.  
“Can it top a secret passageway underneath the lake?”  
“The one that leads to the submarine or the one that leads to Salazar Slytherin's gold treasure?”  
“What's a submarine?”  
“I'll tell you later,” James answered and grinned, “now let me think. According to rumors, we have a torture chamber, a pool filled with blood, zombies and Professor Snape's pet snake.”  
“Does Snape have a pet?”  
“Oh please, as if he was capable of keeping anything alive, he probably can make cacti die within just two days.”  
“He sure can let dreams and hopes wither and pass away.”  
“You have no idea.”  
Piper turned to look at him. “I thought he was generous with you Slytherins,” at least he had had the impression during his potions classes.  
“In public, yes; but when no one's around, he's tough on us. Have you ever seen a Slytherin who was bad at potions? I mean, really think about it.”  
Absen-mindedly Piper waved at the ghost of the Grey Lady as she passed them by and through the wall. Usually he had better things to do during potions, and Slytherins were never pointed out as bad examples, but...  
“No, not really.”  
“Snape's doing. We don't dare to fail.” Then he sneezed. “Geez, remind me not to pick epic battles unless it's summer, I'm freezing.”  
“Duly noted.”  
They had reached the door to the Ravenclaw common room. “Say my name and I disappear. Who am I?”  
“A fellow with a name which doubles as an insult and who gets easily offended?”  
“James!”  
“What? It could be true.”  
“Silence, the answer is Silence,” he said, hoping the knob would recognize James' answer as the stupid joke it was. The door opened, Piper breathed a sigh of relief and they entered.  
“Wow, this is nice!”  
Piper remembered how he felt on the first evening – then sun had gone down then so the high windows only showed night, but the room itself had been illuminated by candles. The best thing was of course the ceiling – painted with stars, to look like the sky. Bookcases lined the walls, tables and chairs were distributed everywhere for the students so they could study, do homework or play games. Not surprisingly, a lot of chess sets were set up. Piper had been forced by his parents to learn chess, and they had given him a set, but he had used it exactly once in a game against an older student who had only wanted to be nice to him: the pieces – sounding remarkably like his father – had insulted the girl's tactics, looks and upbringing, so Piper had stuffed them inside their box and locked it shut. He had of course apologized profusely, but she never asked him to play chess again.  
James walked in a small circle, eyes fixed on the ceiling and the twinkling stars, until Piper grabbed his elbow to keep him from walking into an impressive tower of books.  
“Do you guys actually use these for studying or is this a book-fort in progress?”  
“That one? Studying. Fort Minerva fell just after Halloween when Professor Flitwick made an appearance.”  
James looked at him and for a second, it was as if time had stopped. James' eyes were so blue – not that Piper hadn't noticed, of course he had – and Piper forgot to breathe.  
“You're not kidding,” James said eventually. It wasn't a question, or a suspicion, it was a fact.  
“How do you know?” Piper wanted to know.  
“There are no secrets that can be kept from me. I just...I can see when people lie. They look different when they do. But not you, you mean it,” James cocked his head and smiled, “I like that.”  
Piper's heart skipped a beat. Desperately he wanted to reply, to say “yes”, or “I like you” or just something that was cool and not horribly cliched, but no words came. Piper felt like he was under a spell, but that was over just a moment later.  
“A book fort? Really? Aren't you Ravenclaws too sophisticated and mature for that?”  
“Are you kidding? The house that panicks over a lost quill or when the essay is a roll short?”  
“I'm just kidding, my friends Mark and Sam are Ravenclaws, and I know they're on the opposite end of mature as well as sophisticated.”  
“That is so true,” Piper remarked. James grinned at him.  
Only then did Piper realize that they were both drenched, dirty and beginning to shiver. “Let's go to the bed room, I'll get you a towel.” He really, really hoped no one else would be in there.  
James bounded up the stairs and went inside the bedroom for the 6th graders. Piper's heart jumped in his chest and he was to pre-occupied with a thought loop of “James in my bedroom” to ask himself how James knew where his bedroom was. Smiling, Piper followed him. The Ravenclaw bedrooms were a sight to behold – tall windows, high arches and the ceiling was painted with stars. And being magical, naturally they moved, displayed planet motions and highlighted star constellations. A fire roared in the fireplace, and the whole room was toasty, and to Piper – especially in his wet, half-frozen state – it was heavenly. And to his immense delight, the room was empty except for them. The ceiling just switched to highlighting the constellation of Orion, when he heard a wet slap. And then another. It was James, stripping. Piper's mind went blank for a little bit – this was a dream come true, but it was so soon, and he wasn't prepared, and not ready, and of course it was just James taking off his soaked clothes. When he was down to just a pair of jeans and an orange t-shirt – and no socks – Piper cast a Leviosa and levitated the pile of clothes from the floor to the rack near the fireplace that had been installed for just that purpose.  
“Is that one yours?” James pointed to one of the beds.  
“Yes, it is, how did you know?”  
Silently, James pointed to the flute case on the bedside table.  
“Oh, okay.”  
James hopped onto the bed. That did really weird things to Piper's stomach. Piper himself took off his jacket, scarf and cap, threw them on the rack and fished for his slippers under the bed. As he got up, he heard a strange noise, like really strong wind. James was sitting cross-legged and pointed his wand at his head. A warm blast of air burst out of it, and he was using it to dry his hair. It turned from a dark-blonde wet mess, to a mass of wild curls. He looked ridiculous and Piper couldn't help laughing.  
“What? Never seen someone so desperate for a blowdryer he spent two weeks in the library trying to find a spell that acted like one?”  
“A what?  
“Blowdryer. Great to dry your hair...and you can stick it up your shirt in the winter, it's awesome.”  
“I have no idea what that is.”  
“Don't you attend Muggle Studies?”  
“We never cover so practical stuff, like 'what is this?' or 'what does that thing do?'; more like the judicial system of England, muggle history of Europe and all that.”  
“I never thought being a pureblood had disadvantages.”  
“Depends on where you are. In high society circles, you're being praised, but when it comes to practical things, you're just hopeless. I love it in Ravenclaw, but sometimes when people talk, it goes right over my head. My parents are big on the pureblood angle, you should have seen their faces when I told them I didn't land in Slytherin.”  
“You should have seen the faces of the Slytherins when they realized my dad was a muggle and I grew up mostly like a muggle myself. I think some of them can't comprehend that a Slytherin can be not a Pureblood.”  
“Do they, I mean, are they being mean to you? I mean, you're a Quidditch star, I can't really imagine it.”  
James sat up straight. “Oh, they were. But they soon found out that I can take care of myself and I'm very creative when it comes to revenge. And then I found friends and they didn't dare to mess with me.”  
“I wish I could have seen that, I bet it was brilliant.”  
He grinned. “It was. And is. But shhhh, that's my little secret. I never got caught, and I intend to keep it that way.”  
They talked more, mostly gossip and bemoaned the huge amount of homework they had gotten over the christmas vacation.  
Piper didn't even realize that time was just flying by. It got dark and when he looked up, suddenly it was after 8pm, and they had both missed dinner.  
“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have kept you, you must be hungry.”  
“Starving, in fact,” James replied. Well, that wouldn't do.  
“If you're not adverse to leftover candy from the last Hogsmeade trip, then-”  
“I love candy! Do you have Charm Choc? That's my favorite!”  
Piper smiled and opened the drawer of his bedside table. He got a bag with the Honeydukes label and emptied it on the covers. Brightly wrapped candy spilled out, and James immediately grabbed a handful.  
“What is that?” ha asked and pulled a little purple box of the pile.  
“The music box, I had forgotten I put it in the bag. Should have warned you.”  
“No, it's alright. Did you like it?”  
“Yes, it's wonderful. Mozart's my favorite composer, did you know?”  
“I'm afraid not, that's just the only name I recognized,” James answered and smiled sheepishly.  
“I still love it.”  
Oh crap. He almost hadn't said 'it'. That had been close.  
“You're the biggest music fan I know.”  
“Uh...thanks?”  
“It's a compliment, hey, you should be honored. I think you almost drooled when you saw that one flute back at Maestro's.” Piper thought back to their trip to the music shop and smiled fondly.  
“Did I really look that...bad?”  
“A little bit of enthusiasm is never wrong. And really, how big are your chances of ever getting the flute? I know I'd probably have to find the secret treasure of Salazar Slytherin if I wanted to get my hands on the Firebolt II. A pity that it doesn't actually exist. Although it's kind of a Slytherin sport to go looking for it at least once.”  
“Oh, actually, my parents are kinda rich. I told them that I wanted the flute, and in exchange for keeping my grades up, I'll get it. The one thing to look forward to when I'm going home for christmas.”  
“You're not close to your parents then?”  
“No, not really. I'm in the wrong house, have the wrong hobbies, wrong talents, wrong friends.”  
“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought that up.”  
“Don't be. I'm sure you'll have a lot more fun at home than I will, but I'll manage.”  
“I doubt that,” Piper wanted to say something, but James continued, “not like that. I'll have fun, tons of fun. But I'm not going home. None of us are.”  
“What?”  
“Me and my friends. We all stay.”  
Piper wanted to ask, but not be rude or insensitive. James wasn't going home? He was staying at Hogwarts, during christmas of all times?  
He opened his mouth, but James grabbed his hands and he closed it again. James' eyes seemed to shine. “Let me tell you about the Rogues.”


End file.
